


when lightning strikes, you guide me home

by Chaosride



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, I need closure, I'm making my own epilogue, M/M, Multi, Road Trip, So some spoilers, because shit dude, i saw some stuff, post trk, they saw some stuff, will eventually have some smut I'm sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosride/pseuds/Chaosride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no more hunt for Glendower, because there's no more Glendower to hunt for. The Cabeswater is rebuilding itself, and Gangsey deals with having the rest of their life ahead of them with no more magic kings or sleepers to wake or not wake. It takes some adjusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Following

**Author's Note:**

> I have most of this story already sketched out if not completely written, and the next chapter will focus mainly on Ronan. I'll try to update fairly regularly, but I'm in summer classes and working so.

They're all fragile in their own ways. It was something that Cabeswater and Glendower showed them, something they were all trying to fix. Something they all thought Glendower could fix.

But Glendower was dead, he had been since before the first time Gansey died. Years of searching, of researching, of hoping, gone just like that. For the first time in years, Henrietta no longer felt like home.

So Gansey left.

x-x-x

Gansey isn't used to travelling without a destination of some kind; before, he was always looking for some lost artifact, some hidden knowledge.

He and Henry take turns driving. Gainsay usually finds himself in the driver's seat, listening to Blue and Henry bicker about this or that, or singing along with whatever local radio station they had managed to find. Occasionally sleeping, depending on the hotel bed and time they went to sleep the night before. Blue could drive, but she wasn't a fan of it. Plus, it took ten minutes of working and finagling to even fit himself in the car after she had adjusted the seat so she could reach the pedals. She was a better navigator, and had made her home in the passenger seat.

They wind their way through crowded interstates and empty two lane highways alike. They explore backroads and navigate large cities and get distracted investigating odd landmarks and obscure museums.

For Blue's sake, they had hunted for the cheapest economy flights they could find to get to Peru, a task that was made all the harder by the fact that they were going out of country and that Henry had never packed lightly for anything in his life, and the ones they found left them nearly four months of time to really start their gap year adventure. They start by exploring the surrounding states, going to places that the hunt for Glendower hadn't already taken Gansey.

It was on strange thing, he discovered, to be a true tourist rather than a makeshift tour guide.

"That's anther sign for that national park. We might as well check it out," Henry said, already flipping on the blinker by the time Blue bobbed her head in agreement.

Gansey had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting. He had lived with a checklist of things to do, places to see, things to research in his mind for so long that not having one made frivolous decisions feel even more frivolous. He wondered if the canting guilt of 'didn't earn this' is what haunted Adam for years while he cheerfully forged onward. The thought only made him feel guiltier.

He was still learning to live without examining the chances of finding something important, without planning who he needed to call subtle favors into, without copious amounts of research and planning. Gansey is learning to follow. 

 

The national park is mainly a network of hiking trails and a small museum about Caddo Indians. They don’t spend long in the museum, mainly because there isn't much museum to spend time in. They wander from display to display, idly reading the information about each, occasionally reading off something particularly interesting. It's quietly content, looking around with no goal beyond learning something interesting.

They thank the quiet museum assistant and go off down one of the trails, which had been marked with a sign and a map, indicating that the trail had the most direct route to the bottom of the waterfall nearby. Blue tangles her hand with his, excited about the waterfall the instant she read about it. 

She tugs him along, talking excitedly with Henry. He had easily been convinced of her cause of swimming and didn't need to be pulled along.

The waterfall was not nearly as hidden as most of the things Gansey had found, and so he lead them to it when they got lost. It had involved some light-hearted squabbling over the map, arguing that RoboBee shouldn't have been left in the car with their phones, but they still found it. 

They hear the rush and crash of the water hitting the rocks before they see it, louder and different than the soft sound of the stream they had been following to find it, and Blue takes off at a run. She nearly jerks Gansey's arm out of it's socket trying to pull him along before getting her hand free.

When he and Henry catch up to her, she's staring up towards the top, looking awestruck. Something inside Gansey melts a little at the joy on her face, and it evidently does something to Henry too, as he squeezes Gansey's shoulder.

They all strip off clothes and kick off their shoes and socks to get in the crystal clear water.

Blue leads the way, and they follow.


	2. beaks and claws and broken bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer than I expected to get typed out. It's been a crazy week.

It feels like the world should have stopped when they found Glendower's body. It had been a climax, a turning point, and shift, so devastating in ways Ronan hadn't planned for; in his mind they would either find Glendower alive or not at all. To everyone else, there wasn't anything especially heart shattering about finding a dead Welsh king because to them he could have never been anything but dead. 

But the world kept going around them, never pausing for the discovery of Glendower's death, because to the world, Owen Glendower had been dead for longer than anyone on the earth had been alive. All the things they had wanted to ask Glendower for, all the problems that would go away with a request phrased just right, were left as things they still needed, still wanted. 

The things they had broken along the way stayed broken.

x-x-x

Gansey was falling to pieces, in his own way. He was always kingly, always calm and in control of the situation, even when the castle was on fire and the enemy was at their gate. Always, everywhere, except for in his own mind. Ronan knew that, and could usually tell when Gansey was too far in his own head.

This was different. It was worse than hearing him have a panic attack in the cave, different from watching him die and be reborn. At least then, Ronan could try and fix it, rectify what was wrong. He wasn't sure anyone could fix this, much less him.

They both still suffered from insomnia, though now Gansey's wasn't from the wheels that never stopped turning in his head about Glendower and where to find him. Now Gansey was kept awake by replaying every clue, every discovery, all blurred together until they were white noise.

Before, Ronan had been afraid of the unreal things he could make real. He was afraid of the nightmares he dreamed into existence that were pulled from somewhere within him. He had been afraid of the things he could create. 

After, he found he couldn't sleep alone at the Barns. It was too void of real things so he dreamed them, his mind twisted them until they became unreal. Mainly, he dreamed of his mother.

He dreamed of her corpse, of how she looked when he and Adam found her. It would become a living thing when they found it this time though, like he had wished for so desperately when he first saw her, still and unmoving. Except it was wrong, she was broken and better dead.

First, her heart would start back up, and blood would start pumping again, pouring out of where her skin was broken. Her lungs next, in wet breaths that came in wheezes. Then, she tried to get up, already shattered bones splintering even further and instead she would crawl towards him. 

The worst was the nights she talked. It wasn't her voice, but the demon's mixed with a pale imitation of his mothers and static. It came out in an odd smash of Latin and English, calling him Niall, calling him Greywaren, calling him sick and broken and useless. Calling him Glendower like the name itself was an insult.

Anything he tried to dream there came out twisted and wrong. Opal came with him to Monmouth at first, playing with Chainsaw and running around the first floor but after a few days she grew antsy and agitated until he took her back to the Barns. She belonged out there, among all the other dream things. 

Sleeping at Monmouth was better than the Barns, but still hard. It was familiar though, a home he himself had helped build with Gansey and Noah. Except now Noah was gone, really gone. It was what was best for him, Ronan knew that, but he still missed the quiet presence that Noah was. Neither he nor Gansey had to heart to mess with him room, his space.

Even Monmouth was wilting. The first sleepless night Gansey had, he had taken down all the papers and research and maps that had papered their space. With nothing to research or read or theorize about, he had cleaned and organized, even going to straighten Ronan's room. He hadn't even been able to work on his model of Henrietta. Finally, he had given up and sat in the Pig until morning broke through the trees and eased its fingers over the roof of the warehouse in blinding rays. He felt blank and cast adrift.

There was nothing Ronan could dream to fix this, to fix them.

 

"It just… Changes everything," Gansey admitted one night. Neither of them could sleep and both abandoned any hope that their past vices would work. Instead, they were sitting together on the stairs. Ronan had been sketching to pass the time while Gansey tried to politely act like he wasn't watching Adam's hands appear one line at a time on the paper. For a moment, Ronan thought he was talking about Adam and his hands.

He wasn't.

He was, in true Gansey manner, talking about Glendower. It was a comfort to talk about Welsh kings and their fates again.

"That we found him? Or that he had taken an arrow to the knee?"

"Arrow to the knee is a reference to marriage, not death." Gansey shrugged at Ronan's raised eyebrow, "I've been hanging out with Cheng more, he plays a lot of video games."

"Marriage, death, same thing. Don't avoid the question, Dick."

"That he's been dead all along, I guess. That he was already did when I… That he wasn't involved with it at all. I don’t know what I was expecting, for him to just be wandering the ley line, waiting for us to find him. But its still… I just…"

"It still wasn't what you wanted," Ronan offered, softly.

"I wanted a magical Welsh king. I somehow still got a Welsh king and I'm still not happy."

Ronan nodded and knocked his knee against Gansey's. He didn't have the words that the other needed to hear, but he has himself, as cobbled together as he is. It seemed to be enough for Gansey, because he smiled at him. It was exhausted, but soft and open.

Maybe they didn't need Glendower to fix them as long as they had each other.

 

Adam was avoiding him. It wasn't obvious at first; he was already so busy that they could go days without being alone together. They all still went to Nino's, still hung out before classes, but their late night drives and the visits died off. Ronan assumed it was just that Adam was working himself harder than usual to prepare for college applications and midterms.

Until he noticed the way Adam stared at the mottled bruises that still ringed Ronan's neck. They were varying colors, stark against his pale skin and earning him stares in public.

He didn't know if telling Adam that they weren't from his hands, but from the dead eyed version that haunted his nightmares would make him feel better or worse.

He was tired of everyone living trapped in that night, as though it would change the outcome. He was tired of dreaming tainted, ruined things.

 

Adam had just gotten home from Boyd's when Ronan showed up. Ronan could tell because he still smelled faintly of gasoline and oil, even though he was wearing a slouchy pair of sweatpants that Ronan was pretty sure belonged to him, and a faded Star Wars t-shirt.

Ronan had been surprised to see the shitbox in the lot, and had been even more surprised that Adam had actually answered the door.

Adam looked just as surprised to see him.

"I have homework to do," he started, but moved to let Ronan in regardless, "so I'm not going to be much fun to be around," he finished, shutting the door. He turned and his eyes met Ronan's before falling to his lips. He leaned forward as though to kiss Ronan.

It felt as though he could feel Adam's eyes on his neck. Adam tried to pull away, but Ronan didn't let him go far. 

He looked horrified when Ronan guided his calloused hands to his throat. His skin was still warm from the heater in the BMW, making the chill that clung to Adam's bones in the winter uncomfortable and shocking. Ronan resolutely doesn't flinch away from them.

"Lynch, what the fu-" Adam tried to untangle their hands, tried to get them away from Ronan's exposed throat. Ronan's grip was sure and firm, so Adam stilled.

"I'm not scared of you, Adam. It wasn't you who did it. Your hands and eyes are yours. I trust you. I know you would never hurt me intentionally."

When he took his hands away, Adam's stayed while Adam searched his face. He was always looking, waiting for someone to laugh, to tear him down, to get angry at him. When he found none, he swallowed thickly.

One of his hands slid carefully to the back of Ronan's neck, and he used it to tug Ronan closer, to kiss him. The hand moved up to cradle the back of head. Adam gasped into his mouth like he had just been given a gift.

Adam's other hand lingered where Ronan had put it, cold hands leeching his warmth. His thumb stroked back and forth tenderly, grounding Ronan. 

"Still got homework?" The question came out a little breathless, but he can't bring himself to feel embarrassed over it. Adam pressed his forehead against Ronan's and sighed.

"Nothing that can't be done later," he admitted in defeat. He didn't say it like it was a defeat though; he said it like it was a possibility he had never considered. 

 

The next morning, Ronan woke up with his face buried in Adam's hair, a necklace clutched in his hand. He stayed still longer than he had to, afraid to see what he had dreamt. He hadn't tried to dream anything, he had just fallen asleep, thinking of Adam.

It was a subtle dream thing, an antiqued silver pendant hanging from a leather cord like the ones around his wrist. The metal was pressed with grooves and whorls of a fingerprint. When he put it on, it pressed against his throat where Adam's thumb had rested the night before. It stayed cool against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update at least once a week, probably on Fridays.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't have a beta so any mistakes are my own, please comment if you see anything glaring. I'll have the next chapter up soon. And come scream with me on tumblr at queerrenly!


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